


Cuddles Can Hurt

by imhereforbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Watches Disney, Disney, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforbvcky/pseuds/imhereforbvcky
Summary: You and Bucky have always had a strictly professional relationship, until it becomes a little too easy to get too comfortable when you can’t sleep.





	1. Chapter 1

Nat’s smile slipped into a sly smirk as she dropped a blackened cloth into the bin between you. You were too busy laughing to notice the determined glint in her eye. When you finally regained control and began wiping the barrel of your weapon, she struck, in true Natasha interrogation form, with a complete subject change while you were distracted and at ease. It caught you completely off guard.

“I could swear I saw Barnes leaving your room earlier today,” she said with a side glance to gauge your response. “You two finally hook up?”

“What?” you asked, nervous and unsure how to answer. Shit shit shit. How did she see him? “No, he doesn’t even talk to me outside of work, why the hell would he be in my room?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying! Why would I lie to you?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she narrowed her eyes, looking you over while lining the firing pin back into her gun without lifting her glare from you. “But you keep answering my questions with questions. Dead giveaway.”

“Damn it,” you muttered. There really was no sense lying to her, she was way too damn perceptive and once she was onto something she wouldn’t let it go.

“So why are you two sneaking around?” she asked, genuinely confused. Problem was you were just as confused by it.

“I don’t know!” you whined, “It made sense the first time and then it just became a thing and now it’s weird and I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m in a damn time loop!” It all came out in a rush, your insecurities flooding out of your mouth faster than you could contain them.

“Okay, relax,” she coaxed, “I don’t know how you got into this but I’m  _positive_  you can get out of it.”

You looked up at her, skeptical, but willing to hope. If anyone could get what they wanted out of a relationship, it was Nat.

“That guy looks at you like you personally hung every star in the sky. He’s just also a dude," she shrugged,  "and one who’s had almost no human contact for 70 years. He has no idea what he’s doing either, so just… you’re going to have to be the one to make the first move sometimes.”

“Really?” you asked, feeling like you could maybe crawl out of the pit you had fallen into. “He looks at me like that?”

“Oh my god,” Natasha groaned, rolling her eyes as she stepped away from the table. “How did you two even get together at all?” It was a rhetorical question, clearly. She sauntered away, returning her handgun to the weapons locker.

Your mind wandered, trying to see what Nat saw. You were too lost now to do a decent job of cleaning your firearm after practice and your hands stilled over the disassembled weapon.

* * *

The first time Bucky spoke to you outside of the needs of a mission was at 3:24am on Wednesday July 26th and he scared the shit out of you.

You were never one to sleep on a normal schedule. Your brain just didn’t shut off like it was supposed to, so it wasn’t unusual for you to wander the halls, dancing lightly with headphones in, or to try to wear yourself tired in the gym, or to rummage through the kitchen at ungodly hours of the night. Or was it technically morning?

This time you were in the kitchen, tapping your fingers on the counter to no particular rhythm, waiting for your leftover korma to heat up.

Bucky had the kind of unintentional silence that muted everything he did from his steps to his breathing, and if he didn’t deliberately make noise, you’d never hear him coming. When he’d spotted you fidgeting in the kitchen he’d hung in the shadows, indulging in a small smirk. You were so different like this, your head tipping from side to side to whatever music was floating through your head. Normally he’d slip off before you ever knew he was there, but Sam had convinced him to “stop creeping” and talk to you.

That’s what he meant to do when he stepped forward. He was so preoccupied with trying to find something, anything to say that he didn’t think to shuffle his feet so you’d hear him, and by the time he was beside you he still hadn’t spoken a word, not even a hello. By the time he realized, it was too late, and he still didn’t know what to say.

You never heard him at all, stirring your leftovers, you were only aware of the large shadow that grew over your tapping fingers. Instinctively, you looked in that direction and nearly jumped out of your skin. He was so close it didn’t register fast enough that it was just Bucky, the only sense was fear and you dropped the ceramic bowl with a high pitched yelp.

Bucky reached out with a speed that would always impress you and caught the bowl, slopping the thick orange sauce over the edge, but saving most of your late night meal.

“M’sorry!” he mumbled, “I wasn’t trying… I didn’t mean to…”

“Holy shit!” you breathed, holding your hand to your chest, “How do you even do that? My god, you’re like a cat.”

He chuckled softly, a quiet rumble in his chest.

“But like… the opposite because you save things from falling off the counter instead of aimlessly pushing them off.”

At that he couldn’t help the full laugh that rippled out of him. He closed his eyes at the absurdity, shaking his head slowly with a broad smile on his face. He couldn’t help thinking you were adorable like this, relaxed and a little flustered, just… you.

“So you’re a cat person?” he asked, but it came out more like a statement and he instantly regretted it.

Your eyebrow raised and a crooked smile curled your lips as shock turned to genuine amusement. “You’re pretty confident there, Barnes,” you teased. “I call you a cat and suddenly I’m a cat person?”

The tinge of red that crept up Bucky’s neck and over his face was too adorable to turn away from. He stammered, eyes on his feet, pushing his hair back with splayed fingers. “No, I didn’t mean… I wasn’t…”

He wished he would just burst into flames already when you laughed. How could he fail so miserably at making even the smallest conversation with you? It really shouldn’t be that hard. He managed it with everyone else on the team just fine.

Every thought in his head stopped when your laughter ebbed and you reached your hand out to him, your cool fingers sliding over his forearm. You squeezed softly, trying to guide the discomfort out of his body.

It dawned on you that not everyone embraced your sort of familiar jabbing right off the bat. That had been the first non-work related sentence Bucky had ever directed at you and you immediately spun it and embarrassed him. Good going. Just, excellent job making friends. You released your gentle grip on his forearm, suddenly hyper-aware of every interaction, every word, and every touch. You quickly took the bowl from his hands, stepping back away from him, giving him room in case that was what he needed.

“Want some?” you asked, turning to the cupboard for another bowl before he could even answer. You’d planned just a small snack, but you didn’t mind sharing. You quickly heated up some extra rice and naan to make enough for you both.

Bucky only watched, leaning backward on the counter, close enough to touch you, close enough that he knew he should say _something_  but once again, nothing came to him. This was exactly why he usually hung in the shadows and watched. He knew he must be coming off awkward or cold and brooding. Or maybe all three.

To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind, though, once again tapping your fingers on the counter as the microwave worked its late night magic. Eventually you turned to him with both bowls in hand and nodded toward the living room with an easy smile. He followed, taking one of the bowls and poking at the food while you sifted through Netflix, completely at a loss as to what Bucky might like to watch.

“So what are you doing up so early?” he finally managed to ask, his eyes flickering to your face.

You smiled over at him with a short laugh before turning back to the endless list of movies. “I think you mean “late.” You think I eat korma for breakfast?”

“You haven’t slept at all yet?” he asked before he could think to soften his shock. He knew you were often up at the same unnatural hours he was, but had assumed that, like him, something woke you, though he couldn’t imagine what. He wasn’t sure if the truth was better or worse.

You looked over at him, leaning back into the couch, and in so doing, shifting closer to him, hoping your proximity would ease the worry in his tone, the concern visible in the crease between his eyes. “I just can’t turn it off sometimes.” You tilted your head and tapped your finger against your forehead, arm resting on the back of the couch.

“Sometimes? You’re up a lot at night,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your face like his observation hadn’t betrayed how often  _he_ was up, or how often he noticed you.

You smiled softly, the corners of your eyes wrinkling gently, but Bucky was nothing if not observant. He saw how your eyes didn’t quite glitter like they had a minute ago in the kitchen when you’d laughed. “Disney and a snack are always better than staring at my ceiling, so…” You shrugged and gestured to the room, like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to be out here at 3:30 in the morning watching movies with a bowl of Indian food in your lap.

“Disney, huh?” he asked with an easy grin, shifting slightly to settle deeper into the couch, leaning towards you.

“Yep! How does the Fox and the Hound sound?” you asked, picking the title on the big TV before tossing the remote on the table and shoveling a big bite of korma into your mouth.

Bucky shrugged deeply, shaking his head with a confused frown pulling his lips into a pout.

“You’ve never seen it?” you mumbled around a full mouth of food.

He laughed, setting his empty bowl down on the coffee table. “There are a lot of things I kind of missed out on. Kids movies aren’t exactly top of the list for catching up.”

“Well your list needs resorting, then!” you insisted, your voice tight with horror. “If this ever happens again,” you continued, gesturing between the two of you, “you’re staying up with me to watch another movie until your Disney education is complete.”

Bucky tried to bite back the smile threatening to break out across his whole face. He bit down on his lip and looked at his hands, his cheeks aching from the effort. That sounded damn near perfect to him. How many times had he wandered past you on nights like this not knowing what to say or do, but this… he wouldn’t have to say anything, and you’d already planned what to do.

“Alright,” he agreed, “Disney moves up on the list.”

“Just don’t get turned off by this one,” you begged, “I really don’t know why this is even a kid’s movie it’s  _heartbreaking_. Unless the goal is to teach kids that people suck and even your friends will hurt you one day.”

“Damn,” he laughed, somewhat guarded.

“It’s a sad one s’all I’m saying,” you warned, “You have to stick it out for more than just the Fox and the Hound, okay?”

“I think I can handle it.”

* * *

Half way through the movie you’d leaned into Bucky’s shoulder, and somehow wound your hand into his. His grip slowly tightened as the tension between Copper and Todd rose and the prospect of betrayal became more and more likely. Your eyes were growing heavy, but Bucky was riveted.

“Hey Bucky,” you whispered, the words came out heavy and thick as the need for sleep tugged at you, mind and body alike.

“Hmm?” he hummed, barely tearing his eyes from the screen long enough to look at you.

“Can I have that blanket, please?”

Without another word he grabbed the blanket on the armrest next to him and gave it a flick, letting it unfold before sweeping it over you. His arm reached behind your shoulders as he pulled it up over your body and without a second thought you eased into the open space, falling against his chest and nuzzling into the softness where his shoulder met his chest.

He was too interested in the movie to worry about where his hand should rest now that his arm was pinned over your shoulder. There was no ignoring the fact that you’d curled into him so easily, your warm softness molded against his side. He loved every part of it and wondered how the hell he’d ever managed it. Eventually he decided he probably had very little to do with it.

Before long Bucky’s hand sank into your hair, and began gently massaging your scalp. You glanced up at him but his eyes were glued to the TV, so you burrowed deeper into his chest, enjoying the feeling of comfort and easy closeness. You closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing it in.

“Hey doll,” Bucky murmured in your ear, his cool metal finger tracing lightly over your jaw. “It’s just after 5, we should get moving.” His voice sounded rough and raw, that light sandpaper sound that voices get when they’re dry from the slow steady breathing of sleep or near sleep, in this case.

You groaned, burying your face into his shoulder and sliding your arm over his stomach in your half-asleep state, hugging yourself closer. “Don’t wanna move,” you complained against his body. It came out as a muffled whine and he only laughed, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he leaned forward, dragging you with him.

“Yep, c’mon. Steve’ll be up soon looking for me for our run and I need to find somewhere to hide,” he insisted.

You only groaned again as he dragged you to your feet. You wrapped your arm tighter around his torso. “Too comfy.”

You felt his quiet laugh against your cheek, still pressed tight against him. “I am too tired for a run, I need to find somewhere to get some sleep before Steve finds me!” he urged, gently pushing your shoulders back off of him.

“Come sleep with me,” you shrugged.

He laughed again, raising an eyebrow and smirking down at you, “Seems unethical. You’re barely conscious right now.”

“Not like that, you perv!” you playfully smacked his arm, much to your regret. That damn metal arm had no give and your fingers stung. “Ow!” you whined while he laughed heartily, hugging your sleepy form tight against him. “I meant literally sleep. I’ve slept like an hour and I don’t have any training until later today. Steve won’t look for you in my room.”

“I like this plan,” he murmured just above a whisper, his warm breath tickling the edge of your ear, making you squirm in his hold.

You’d spent the entire morning asleep in a tangle on your bed. When you first curled up against him, his arm under your head and hooked over your waist you wondered how the hell you’d gone from hardly speaking to sleeping together - just sleeping - in one morning. Before you could come up with a reasonable answer you were dead asleep, your bodies more closely draped together than they were when you first laid down. It happened fast but it seemed like the most comfortable thing in the world.

However, when you woke in the early afternoon, he was gone and you hardly saw him after that, and when you did it was only small smiles and work talk. Like before. It threw you for a loop and you weren’t quite sure how to get yourself out of it.


	2. Chapter 2

A few nights had gone by and you’d made a point to waste your late night awake time out in the living room hoping Bucky would wander in again, but he didn’t. You tried not to take it personally, not everyone could function on 4-6 hours of sleep, and you knew Bucky was only up when something woke him. It was a good thing if he wasn’t here, right? Right.

But it didn’t feel so good, so by the 4th night you only shuffled into the kitchen long enough to grab an entire box of Lucky Charms before you wandered back to your room with a bowl of milk. You sat cross-legged on the end of your bed, chomping on a mouthful of cereal balancing the bowl in one hand, your spoon and the remote in the other as you thumbed through your list of saved movies.

A stupidly giddy smile erupted across your face when you heard a quiet knock on your door. You bit your lip in an effort to force yourself to contain some of the excitement and act like a normal human being. There was no mistaking who was on the other side of that door, the sound of metal on your steel door gave it away and you shifted anxiously in your seat with no real purpose.

“It’s open,” you called, taking another bite of cereal just to keep yourself from rambling.

“Hey,” he greeted you as he stepped inside, he looked a little reserved, like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome so you waved him over with your spoon. “I couldn’t sleep, and I know you’re practically nocturnal, so I thought you’d answer.”

“Yeah, c’mon in!” You quickly gulped down your mouthful of cereal, “I was just about to pick a movie.”

“I don’t know if I trust your judgement anymore,” he teased, but stepped into the room anyway, falling carelessly across your bed.

“What?!” you demanded, getting up to set your bowl on the dresser. “What was wrong with the Fox and the Hound?”

“It was traumatizing!” he complained, shifting to make room for you as you eased back onto the bed beside him.

You sat alongside where he lounged comfortably, his head propped up on his hand, elbow digging into your mattress so he could see you. You, however, felt reserved and uncomfortable, still thrown off by the distance the last few days, worried this was just a closeness and charm he used to fill a night. A part of you wondered if that was really a bad thing, but another part worried you would get too caught up and could get hurt.

You drew your knees to your chest and tried your best to carry on with the conversation despite the racing thoughts in your head and the flutter in your stomach. “Wow!” you made a show of drawing the word out, “A world class assassin got too emotional over a fox hunt.”

“When they make the fox feel like your best friend, yes!” he defended, “If they made a movie like that about cute baby cow I’d stop eating meat.”

“Just wait til we get to Dumbo, then” you mumbled, swiping up the remote.

“No!” Bucky firmly protested, lurching over you to make a grab for the remote in your hand.

You were again surprised by his speed. He went from casually lounging at your side to hovering over you, reaching for your hand in an instant. It took your breath away. You squealed as you fell backwards, stretching your arm overhead, trying to keep it out of his reach.

You were suddenly very aware of how  _big_  he was. Just… tall with strong, far-reaching arms and thick thighs that anchored around you as he stretched over your body. Every part of him was pressed so damn close. If he leaned a little further, he could have easily taken the remote out of your hand, but instead he let half his weight fall on you as he brought another hand to your ribs.

You jolted, your instinct to ball up and protect yourself from the tickling took over and you soon brought the remote within reach. He snatched it out of your hands but continued to squeeze your side as you squirmed beneath him.

“Bucky!” you spat angrily. “S-stop! I w-will fucking MURDER you!”

He stopped tickling you but didn’t move off of you. Instead he fell into a fit of laughter and dropped his head to your collarbone. His warm breath came out in bursts as he continued to laugh, your hair dancing in wisps over your skin in response until you were laughing with him.

He finally rolled off of you, well half way, he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, still hovering, one leg weighing heavy on yours.

“I have never seen you that mad before,” he laughed, “Not even on an assignment.”

“Yeah, well, people usually go for gun or fist fights on our missions, not tickle fights,” you huffed, but couldn’t reign in your smile.

Closing your eyes, you pushed your fingers into your hair, resting your hand on your forehead, just catching your breath when suddenly Bucky’s lips were on yours. Your eyes snapped open in surprise but quickly fluttered closed again when he gently sucked on your bottom lip. You responded quickly, molding your lips around his and running your tongue across his upper lip.

Your hand dove into his hair, slipping easily through the soft length until your fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him deeper. His hand slipped over your side, gliding gently, lightly, over your ribcage, his thumb sweeping teasing circles as he went. You whimpered softly  as his teeth dragged over your lip when he pulled back, panting slightly.

He swallowed hard and looked down at you with the greatest hesitation playing across his face. It made you nervous and you began second guessing everything and tried to slide away, but he didn’t move. His hand on your side held you in place until he finally spoke.

“Maybe… maybe we should slow down,” he whispered before he ducked down to kiss you again, this time a quick, tug on your lips, like he wanted more. You wanted more, and found yourself chasing after his lips as he pulled back again. Then he quickly rolled off of you and pulled himself higher up your bed so he was leaning against the headboard.

“O-okay,” you mumbled, sitting up with your back to him. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Your fingers traced over your lips, still tingling from the heat of just seconds before, trying to reconcile the coolness that now enveloped your skin and sank into your bones. “You pick a movie, I’ll um… I’ll be right back.”

Before Bucky could get in another word you swooped up your cereal bowl and the box you’d absconded with and headed to the kitchen. The bowl clattered into the sink as you cursed under your breath, mind and heart racing. There was no scenario that made sense to you, nothing that explained why he had cooled so quickly. What the hell was going on. You needed to talk to Nat, but it was 2am, if she was up, you definitely didn’t want to know anything about what she was doing.

After placing your bowl in the dishwasher you rolled your shoulders and resolved to go back in there and watch whatever damn movie he chose, to be yourself, to follow his lead. He had every right to put on the brakes, just like you did. It would be nice if he told you why, but he didn’t owe you anything.

The confident new resolve that brought you back to your door sank quickly when you stepped through and found the room empty. You closed the door behind you and flopped down on your bed with a groan. This would be a sleepless night of replaying every second of the night trying to figure out where it went wrong.

* * *

“Steve what the hell is wrong with me?” Bucky complained, taking a long pull on his water bottle as Steve stretched. It was early, and Bucky was tired, and irritable, and he hadn’t stopped talking since they left the compound on their run. “I used to pick up girls all the time; now I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea who I am anymore.”

“Okay, woah.” Steve put both hands in front of him, palms out toward Bucky. “It’s not the end of the world, Buck. It’s been, what, 75 years since you picked up a girl?”

Bucky rolled his eyes but nodded, conceding to the point.

“Times have changed,” Steve continued. “And you’re not trying to  _just_ pick her up, which is also not something James Buchanan Barnes would have done 75 years ago, but that’s not a bad thing.”

Bucky nodded again, “I don’t know why I’m coming to  _you_  for advice on this. Your last relationship was 75 years ago, too.” He shoved Steve in the shoulder before stepping into the elevator.

“Because, of the two of us, I’m not the one who made out with a girl and ran,” Steve teased, with raised eyebrows, stepping into the elevator. He had his hands on his hips, daring Bucky to argue.

“Right, right,” Bucky agreed, “You just got with your ex’s niece.”

Steve sighed heavily, dropping his hands to his sides, his head falling back. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“No, probably not.” Bucky grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

You’d gotten home late from a mission with Clint. Very late. It was nothing special, nothing invasive. Just a quick scouting trip. He was the eyes, and you did a quick little recon on the inside, but you’d gotten a little jammed up inside with your cover. Nothing happened, really, you weren’t compromised, there hadn’t even been any struggle, but the threat of exposure and ruining any future chances had been so damn high that you’d been tense and wired for hours.

Even on the flight home you were jittery, forcing yourself to take deep breaths every now and again. When you went to grab a coffee, hoping the ritual and the warm steam would help you relax, Clint practically slapped it out of your hands, insisting it was past midnight and you were tuned up enough without a double dose of caffeine. He was probably right, but you pouted nonetheless.

Finally back at the compound you trudged to your room and made straight for the shower. The heat helped to settle your tense muscles but not your mind. You couldn’t help replaying all the ways your cover went off plan, and when you shook your head and forced yourself to think of something else, your thoughts went immediately to Bucky.

Completely lost in your head, you stepped out of the bathroom in your most comfy pair of pajamas, toweling the water from your hair. You reached for your phone on your dresser, eyes locked on it as you spun, thumbing through your notifications since you’d been gone with Clint.

“How attached are you to your egg roll?”

You screamed and threw your phone, pressing your hand over your racing heart all in one clumsy and very un-Avenger-like motion. All you could manage was a glare in Bucky’s direction, your mouth hanging open, trying to regain control of a single goddamn thought.

“Because they’re really good, and I’ll trade you my wontons for your egg roll,” he suggested, before stuffing a rather large glob of gooey Kung Pao chicken into his mouth. He looked impossibly, perplexingly comfortable on your bed, once again leaning on the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankle in front of him, a white cardboard carton of Chinese food in one hand and a few wax paper wrappers around him holding, you could only assume your eggroll and his wontons.

As your heart stopped racing and your brain caught up, you eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t move closer. “Bucky…” you started in a tired hum, draping your towel over the back of a chair and preparing for an uncomfortable conversation.

“Alright fine,” he interrupted, “Keep your eggroll, but hurry up and get over here so we can start the movie. You look exhausted.” He wiped his hands on a napkin from your nightstand and held his arm out to you. “C’mon!” he insisted, like curling against him in your bed with Chinese food was the most obvious thing you could do; like nothing had happened; like this was just something you two did; like everything was okay.

You really weren’t sure what to say, so you just… did it. You crawled slowly into your bed, pulling the covers up to your waist and sitting a respectable distance from him. He handed you the carton of chicken he had been eating from and picked up the remote.

“I was thinking Ratatouille, what d’you think?” he asked, “No one dies, right? Not as bad as the Fox and the Hound?”

You shook your head and grimaced, your mouth full of Chinese food. “Mmm no,” you gulped down the food in your mouth. “No, it’s good, but we are  _not_  watching a movie about a  _rat_  who cooks French food while eating Chinese food!”

“Fair point,” Bucky agreed, paging down through more movies. “Okay, how about this one?”

You shook your head, “No, you’ve gotta watch Finding Nemo first.” He groaned in frustration, clearly tired of this process. “How about the Lion King?” you suggested, “It’s right there.”

“Sold.” He picked the movie and as it started up.

You leaned forward, gripping the eggroll for a microphone, belting your most ostentatious attempt at the intro. “Naaaaaaaants ingonyamaaaaaaaaa bagiiithi babaaaaa!!!!”

He only stared at you in slack-jawed awe before laughter overtook you both.

“Laugh it up,” you teased, feeling more normal, more like yourself more like the two of you had been before that damn kiss. “When we’re done here you’ll be singing these songs too.”

“I think you’ll have to go to Sam for that,” he laughed.

“Oh I already do,” you insisted, “Have you not gone to karaoke with us? He and I kill it with I’ll Make A Man Out Of You.”

Bucky grimaced, staring at you, confused and unsure. “That sounds inappropriate.”

“Okay, Mulan is next on the list,” you laughed, handing him the half empty carton of food. “I’m stuffed; will you set that over there?”

As he leaned away from you to set the carton down, you shimmied down into the bed, adjusting the pillows so your head was propped up near his hip but your body curved away from him. It took you by surprise that he was here at all, and it was a comforting gesture that he’d bought dinner and had waited up for you, but you just weren’t convinced. The sting of his vanishing act still bit every time you thought of curling up to him. This felt like something friends would do… apart from that kiss which he’d run away from. You absolutely would not push him into more.

As you pulled the blanket high on your shoulder, curling it under your chin, Bucky turned back with a reactionary “Hey!” You looked up at him, confused and alarmed, thinking you’d spilled something or stolen his pillow.

“What are you doing? Get over here?” he held his arm out above your head and sunk down further into the bed, urging you to curl into him like you had done in the past.

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. It was all you wanted, really, but if you were going to be just friends, you needed to be careful, protect yourself, not get too attached. Thinking hard for a moment, you chewed your lip before deciding it wouldn’t hurt too bad to just cuddle. You slipped into the pocket between his arm and chest, your head falling comfortably against his shoulder, your arm draped easily over his stomach. He brought his hand to meet yours and tangled the tips of his fingers with yours, dancing them over yours, between, beneath, on top in slow, mindless, erratic patterns.

Your gaze was stuck on your fingers and his, not paying any attention to the movie. You sank a little when his other hand drifted to the back of your head, stroking your hair. After a few minutes you felt his cheek rest on the top of your head. Then you heard it. A soft kiss on your hair. It was too much and you pushed up suddenly.

“Bucky, I can’t… you can’t do that!” you stammered.

“What do you mean, sweet–”

“No! No, you can’t… No cute nicknames, you can’t kiss me, you can’t touch me like that and… and just be my friend.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, instead choosing to stare at the loose thread you were toying with on comforter between you. “I like you, and it’s too much if you do these things when 1you don’t feel the same. We can watch movies and I don’t mind cuddling a little, but all of this is too much, I need boundaries…”

You were rambling and it was aimless, and you were really just trying to put as many words and as much time as possible between now and the moment you had said you liked him so that maybe, just maybe he’d forget you’d said it and it wouldn’t ruin everything again.

You hadn’t realized he was quietly repeating your name, trying to pull your attention out of your head until his hand was on yours, stopping your fidgeting. You finally lifted your eyes to his, after taking and holding a deep breath.

“But I do feel the same,” he urged, those steely blue eyes unwavering on yours.

“You do?” you asked, confused, “But last time you–”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’m sorry. I fucked that up. I came to your room at 2 in the morning and then we… I didn’t want you to think I came here just for  _that_. And then you seemed upset and I didn’t want to make things worse so I left, but I think only I made them a lot worse.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “I figured you were coming to sleep with me, but like… actual sleep. I think we were probably on the same page.” You shook your head laughing at the absurdity of the situation and rolled your hand over, curling your fingers around his hand. “How about we start over? And we both understand that if you come here at 2 in the morning it might just be for a Disney sleepover, but you can also know that if it’s a… HBO sleepover, that’s okay with me too.”

“Plan A and Plan B, very clear,” he agreed, locking his fingers around yours and leaning forward to kiss you gently. This time you weren’t surprised at all and you met him with equal force, your fingertips drifting over the line of his jaw before you pulled away smiling.

You quickly settled back into a comfortable space, wrapped around each other, watching the movie. It was still new and thrilling, everywhere you skin met his felt like it was on fire and you were hyper aware of every breath, every movement, every soft stroke until it all became a soft rhythm that signaled to you that Bucky was asleep beside you.

Shifting to reach for the remote, you set a sleep timer and then curled up next to him. In the early stages of sleep he must sensed the change and shifted too, bringing one very heavy metal arm careening down on your face. It felt like a rocket had erupted under your skin, a hot pain shot through your cheek and eye in an instant, quickly settling to a dull but insistent throb.

With a yelp, you jumped up, shoving his hand away and holding your cheek. Bucky woke in the same instant looking frantically around the room for the source of your pain as if it was some intruder or phantom from his dream, not yet fully awake.

“Bucky, it was you,” you laughed, placing a reassuring hand to his knee and biting your lip to keep back the tears. It hurt like hell, but you didn’t want him to freak out.

“What?” he asked, confused and upset, “What do you mean? Was I? Did I have a nightmare?”

“No, no!” you insisted, as he twisted, flicking on the lamp on your table. “You only just fell asleep and you just rolled over, Bucky, I’m fine.”

He reached for your face, tilting your chin so he could get a better angle in the light. “Shit,” he mumbled “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“Bucky you were  _asleep!”_  you insisted. “God that thing sure weighs a ton, huh?” you joked, trying to get him to relax, to see that you weren’t upset. There was nothing to be upset about, it was a genuine accident, you were completely fine.

“Let me get you some ice.”

He was gone a second later and you sighed, fearing he’d bolt again. When he came back with a ziplock bag of crushed ice from the fridge wrapped in a thin towel, you pressed it to your face and immediately started rambling about how you were fine, it really wasn’t a big deal, please could you just finish the movie together?

“Move over,” he insisted, sliding into bed on the other side of you. “I can’t swing at you again if you’re on my left.” He grinned, pulling you close with his left arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so you were laying on it.

You smiled, relieved that this wasn’t going anywhere.

“I really am sorry,” he murmured against the top of your head, “You sure you’re okay? Want some ibuprofen or something?”

“I’m fine, really.”

* * *

"How exactly did you manage to give yourself a black eye?" Nat snapped, taking your chin in her hand and tilting your head so she could get a better look. “Clint said your recon yesterday was clean.” Her sharp green eyes were narrowed on you and damn, was she intimidating.

“It was just a stupid accident,” you insisted, because that was true, and the closer to the truth the easier it was to lie, the more likely she was to believe it.

“That’s not an answer,” she continued probing, “And why does Barnes keep looking over here?” Her piercing gaze locked on Bucky in a second.

“Probably because  _you_  look like you’re about to punch me,” you teased.

“Did  _he_?” she was on you again in an instant, her voice low and insistent.

“Did he what?” you asked. Shit. How was she so damn good at this?

She didn’t repeat the question, only tilted her head, still glaring at you, this time with a heavy dose of concern pulling her unnaturally smooth skin into a deep crease between her brows and pressing her lips into a hard line.

“No!” you cried, “No. Nat, I’m telling you it was an accident. I’m fine. Will you please just drop it.”

Her hard gaze remained on you for a long moment more before she finally relented and stepped aside, letting you pass with the bowl of salad for the table. It took her about 3 seconds to reach Bucky, a small paring knife slamming hard into the wooden cutting board where he was working on shredding cheese for topping off dinner.

He only rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at her, making a show of giving her his attention. She demanded it, but he didn’t have to be happy about giving it.

“Did you hurt her?” She asked in Russian, her tone was ice cold and a sharp hush.

“I was asleep, Tasha,” he sighed, returning in Russian. “I was half sitting up and when I rolled over and my left arm fell on her cheek. Like she said; an accident. It’s not going to happen again.”

Natasha glared at him, looking him up and down. She took half a step back, and uncurled her fingers from the small knife, but left it protruding from the cutting board. “If you hurt her, I’ll be the one coming for you,” she told him matter-of-factly, like it was some agreement you’d signed just for being her friend. “And it won’t be pretty. I still have a big ugly scar on my hip from Odessa!”

“What about when you tried to strangle me with a wire in D.C.!” he snapped at her retreating form.

“Chokehold in Berlin!”

“Why are we even friends?” he mumbled.

“Because you’re a good guy when you’re not a brainwashed zombie,” she smiled, annoyingly sweet as she leaned back into the room, nearly gone.

“I could say the same for you,” he grinned, throwing a piece of the cheese rind at her, which she of course dodged.

“Exactly why we’re friends!” she hollered from the hall before disappearing outside.

“You okay?” she asked you, with a kinder smile, sliding into the seat next to you with a pack of frozen peas.

“For the thousandth time, yes,” you sighed. “He tell you?”

She nodded with a grin, serving herself some salad, and you leaned forward, letting your elbow fall with a heavy thunk to the table as you leaned your face into the bag of peas. “Who knew cuddling could be so dangerous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this is a totally embarrassing story from my life. I didn’t get a black eye and it was not nearly this cute. But I was chilling with this guy I was kinda seeing and he started to fall asleep watching a movie and he jerked in his sleep and totally nailed me in the face.


End file.
